


Nuvelle Burns

by FalconNights



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Had to come up with a bunch of Dagda and Brigid lore, Other, POV Multiple, Prequel, headcanon where constance has purple hair and uses illusion magic to make it appear blonde, will add more tags as chapters are posted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26040568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FalconNights/pseuds/FalconNights
Summary: Constance von Nuvelle lives idyllically in Enbarr, the imperial capital.Shamir Nevrand and her partner work as mercenaries in Dagda, a vast but at last unified land.History stirs yet again, sending them hurtling towards a fateful day that will irrevocably scar their lives and end many others.
Kudos: 4





	Nuvelle Burns

## Prologue - Silver Snow - A Perfect Memory

A woman stands among the ruins. 

The breeze is kind and gentle, the sky a brilliant summer blue. 

The waves lap at the shore, the only sound in this quiet place. 

Charred wood and stone still mark the foundations of a once-great city.

Its ashes have long since blown into the sea.

Living things do not come here.

"Coco?" Her companion asks, "We should leave. It isn't safe."

"Another moment," she whispered. "Just one more..."

* * *

## Chapter 1 - Constance, Enbarr, Red Wolf Moon Imperial Year 1174

"Please, may I enter your castle?" The boy chirped.

"Hmmm, perhaps. A gift, I require." The girl answered, snuggling into her makeshift throne.

The boy smiled and brushed aside his apricot bangs. "Then, for you, my lady, I pledge a hundred ships and all the armies and gold of my lands."

"That is quite a dowry, my lord, but maybe-" The girl started, curling her violet hair around a finger.

"Aha! You said maybe!" The boy announced, overjoyed. He leaped to his feet and pointed at her tauntingly.

"Ugh," she rolled her eyes, "Ferdinand, this is a child's game," she groaned.

"And a fun one, no?" He smiled, all too proud of himself. "Or are my noble senses honed too well for the illustrious Constance-"

"It's a child's game," she repeated, "and I am no child!"

"Please, do not be like that," he begged. 

"Like an adult? Look at yourself! I could hardly be called your senior," she pouted. Constance slid off of the log and stretched her legs. Ferdinand shook his head in dejection. "Oh, look up my friend, come come," she teased. "The hour of tea draws near." Ferdinand perked up immediately.

"Ah! Tea sounds lovely. Shall we venture into the city?" He inquired.

"I should think not! We shall return to my estate for our brew," Constance announced.

They chased each other down hills and through fields of grass, guided towards the imperial capital by a warm autumn wind. They had more than once been shamed by their respective families for playing outside of Enbarr, but neither had disclosed this to the other for fear of embarrassment. And so, the tradition held. At least once a moon, they would leave the suffocating hustle and bustle of the city to frolic in the neighboring grassland.

The Nuvelle estate, like those of most of the noble families of the empire, overlooked Enbarr proper. It was a tedious walk, but always one the friends were prepared to make. They sang songs, shared gossip, exchanged thoughts, but most commonly they showed off.

"Have I informed you of my newfound magical prowess?" The Nuvelle girl wondered allowed.

"You have not!" The Aegir boy proclaimed. 

"I thought not!" Constance laughed. "Look well now, Ferdinand, as I astound and amaze." A wicked grin crossed her face as she reached out her hand, palm to the sky. She shut her eyes tight and her grin became a grimace. Her arm shook as every muscle inside of it tensed. 

_Breathe, Constance_ , she focused. She was close to breaking. One moment more and-

The red runes materialized around her hand, and at their center sprouted a tender flame that floated inches above her skin.

"Ah-ha!" She proclaimed. "Gaze upon the magical might of Constance von Nuvelle!" 

Ferdinand giddily danced back and forth, fists clenched in awe. "That's amazing, Constance!" He shouted, starstruck. "I will have to redouble my efforts if I am to best the progress of one such as you."

"Please, dearest Ferdinand," she said, voice dripping with false humility, "it is no contest."

"Even so," he agreed, "my combat instructor has said I may one day wield a lance as mightily as the great Cichol himself! I need only to continue training."

"The great Cichol?" Constance asked, full of confusion. "Your instructor claimed you may one day rival a saint?"

"Only with training," Ferdinand nodded, "Do you not wish to pursue the legacy of Macuil? I would think it only natural of you to-"

"Ah, yes," she cut him off, "Macuil. Indeed, to wield spells as powerful as he would make me a true asset to the empire."

"To the empire, and to all of Fodlan," he corrected.

It was high noon when the pair passed through the gate of the Nuvelle estate. It was much smaller than the estates of their peers that dotted the cliffs that gazed down on the lower city, something Ferdinand had mentioned thoughtlessly, to Constance’s chagrin. He had said it befitted a viscount, and, though Constance felt deeply spurned, she could not help but agree.

The twin doors of Constance’s home swung open. Standing between them was a butler, a look of terror on his aged face.

“Constance!” He cried out. “Lady Nuvelle, thank the goddess you are safe.”

“Vincent?” Constance asked, perplexed. “Why are you-”

“Inside, the both of you, now!” The servant ordered, frantically ushering them in. The pair complied, hurrying through the doors. He closed and bolted them quickly.

“What is the meaning of this?” Constance hissed. “I have been gone longer with less fanfare than this. We came back for tea, that is-”

“My Lady, please,” he interrupted, “I must fetch the Viscountess. Please do not leave.” With an informal bow, Vincent spun around and hurried towards the stairs. He paused for a moment before climbing and looked back at the two of them. “Stay put,” he repeated, “both of you.”

“What on earth could be wrong with him?” Ferdinand asked.

“I haven’t the faintest clue,” Constance answered. “There should be tea in the kitchen, come, I will pour us some.”

“Delightful!” Ferdinand smiled.

The available brew was not to either of their tastes, but it was perfectly bearable for the sake of mutual politeness. They took turns complimenting it and each other, as was the custom, and nibbled on cakes in between sips. They were in their own world, but that illusion was soon shattered.

“Constance! Constance!” A voice called from the second floor, accompanied by frantic footsteps that echoed through the wooden floor.

“The kitchen, Mother!” Constance called back. There were more footsteps, more shouting. “It seems my mother has an entourage,” She joked. Ferdinand nodded and took another sip. As they drew nearer, their shouts became clearer.

"He can’t truly have Princess Edelgard, can he?" rang one voice.

"The final pieces are falling into place," a solemn voice answered.

"My lady, we must leave, now," said the last.

Ferdinand squinted. “Princess Edelgard…” He muttered.

Constance’s mother burst into the kitchen, startling the pair. Disheveled blonde hair fell down her shoulders and across her face. _I’ve never seen Mother like this_ , Constance thought. The levity of her day vanished and a sinking feeling grew in her gut. Her mother brought her into a swift hug, running her hands up and down her daughter. 

“Sunlight! I’m so glad you’re safe,” she spoke almost too fast. Her servants and attendants poured into the kitchen after her, each carrying bags and parchment and the like. 

“M-mother?” Constance stammered. 

“Sweet Sunlight,” she soothed, “I am sorry to frighten you, but I-” her orchid-purple eyes locked on Ferdinand, and widened. “What is he doing here?!” She shouted.

“M-mother!” Constance repeated, bewildered. Ferdinand was already on his feet, bowing deeply.

“Viscountess Nuvelle, forgive me, Constance had invited me for-” He apologized.

“Enough,” she commanded, “leave.” The Viscountess turned to one of her servants. “Elliot! See the Aegir boy home, and swiftly.” The servant, short and plump was taken aback.

“M-my lady, the trip will take an hour, will you wait for-” she protested.

“We will be gone.” Constance’s mother spoke matter-of-factly. She brought Elliot into a hug. “We will send someone. We will get you out, I promise.”

The servant nodded her head and took Ferdinand’s hand in hers. “This way, my lord.” She insisted. The woman dragged him from the kitchen before he could respond. He struggled all the way to pull himself free from her grip. 

“Ferdinand!” Constance called after her friend.

“Sunlight, please.” The Viscountess returned her attention to her daughter. “There is no time. Your things have been packed, and the carriage will be here soon.”

“What carriage?” Constance asked, suddenly close to tears.

“Sunlight, please be strong for me,” her mother begged.  
  


“Why?” She cried.

The Viscountess’s expression flew between concern and fear and love and guilt and assurance. “The insurrectionists-” she started, but found herself unable to explain. 

“Insur-” Constance tried to respond, but her mother hushed her with a trembling finger. 

“My lady, the carriage is coming around,” Vincent announced. 

“Sunlight, come.” The Viscountess pleaded. She grabbed Constance much the way Elliot had grabbed Ferdinand and tried to lead her out of the kitchen.

“No!” Constance shouted. “Let me go!” Without thinking, she found herself shutting her eyes and opening her palm and calling upon her fire spell again. The red runes formed and fizzled and came together to form a tiny momentary spark. More than enough to escape her mother’s grip, however.

“Gah!” The Viscountess cried in pain. “Constance! What did you-”

“I don’t want to go anywhere!” The young Nuvelle stomped her foot.

“I will not see you made a hostage!” Her mother screamed back at her.

“What are-” she started, but Vincent grabbed her from behind. He hoisted her into the air and held her tight. Despite her kicking and flailing, she knew she had never bested his iron grip. “Vincent! Release me!” She yelled. “I order you!” But the stalwart servant paid no heed to his young mistress. 

He carried her out the door, the Viscountess right behind them. The carriage was a dingy thing, nothing like those Constance had ridden in so many times when exploring the city below. He stuffed her inside and seated himself next to her. Her mother clambered in next. With the baggage loaded in by their servants, there was scarcely enough room in the cabin for the three of them. The carriage rocked as their servants climbed into their seats atop the cabin. 

“Mother,” Constance wept, “where are we going?”

Her mother looked out the window briefly before shutting it, sealing off the daylight. “Home,” she answered distantly, “to see your father and Sebastian again.”

Constance buried her head in her hands. “A silver lining, then,” she muttered.

Some time passed, and they rode in silence.

“When will we return?” She asked, afraid of the answer.

“Someday,” her mother lied.

“Will I be able to write to Ferdinand?” She mumbled.

“No,” her mother answered.

“But he’s my friend,” she whispered.

“Not anymore,” the Viscountess snapped back.

Constance was sad enough to cry again but was far too angry to do so. Instead, she nuzzled her head against the carriage door and closed her eyes. _You’re wrong_ , she thought, _Ferdinand is my friend._ She wanted to dream of him, but it was another’s name that lingered on her mind.

_Edelgard… Edelgard…_

Despite her convictions, Constance von Nuvelle will never return to Enbarr.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! This will be a 7 chapter story alternating PoVs between Constance and Shamir.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, you can follow me on twitter @FalconNights.


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